


Backhair Blues                                 (or the Dual Manifestations of a Maladaptive Oral Fixation)

by IT_GIRL_RH



Category: Radiohead (Band)
Genre: Character Study, Friendship, M/M, lolz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-31
Updated: 2010-05-31
Packaged: 2018-10-16 13:58:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10572720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IT_GIRL_RH/pseuds/IT_GIRL_RH
Summary: Thom's ill-conceived foray into manscaping makes Jonny wistful. And neither one can stop touching his lips.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Updated: 01 Jun 2010, 01 Jun 2010, 06 Jun 2010, 06 Jun 2010
> 
> Due to circumstances beyond my control, I had to churn out an ending to this that I don't like. I hope to eventually go back and change it to something I find more satisfying someday.

 

  
Summary: Thom's ill-conceived foray into manscaping makes Jonny wistful. And neither one can stop touching his lips.  
Rating: General  
Categories: Radiohead slash  
Characters: Ed, Jonny, Thom, Colin, Phil  
Genres: Character Study, Friendship, LOLZ  
Pairings: Edny  
Warnings: None  
Completed: Yes   
Updated: 01 Jun 2010, 01 Jun 2010, 06 Jun 2010, 06 Jun 2010  
**Disclaimer:**This is fiction. I do not own nor pretend to know anything about Radiohead. This is just a bit of fun and I, in no way, intend any harm to anyone, especially to Radiohead.  


Story Notes:

Due to circumstances beyond my control, I had to churn out an ending to this that I don't like. I hope to eventually go back and change it to something I find more satisfying someday.

Chapter 1

 We spent the whole morning making good progress on a new song. Sure sign of an aging rock star is that the best recording happens in the morning after a good night’s sleep instead of in the witching hours after we’ve slept all bloody day. I like it better this way. I don’t think any of us were ever really cut out for that drug fueled 70’s rock star fantasy. We’re really all middle class bankers at heart.

It’s such a gorgeous day and we’d gotten so much done that when we were met with the inevitable roadblock, we decided to just pack it in for the day and enjoy some sun while we still had the chance. We are almost done with L.A. We will all be heading back soon to the gloom of a British winter. As much as we're all looking forward to being back home again, we're all dreading it a little too, truth be told.

I don’t know what the rest of them are up to now. As soon as I could, I made a beeline out here. There’s not too much about L.A. I will miss, besides the weather, of course, but I will miss this comfy sofa by the pool. I love to come out here to read my books and stockpile some vitamin D for the cold, dark winter ahead. It’s the perfect day for it.

After a while Jonny wanders out with a mug of tea. He steps over my legs which I have propped up in the usual spot on the ridiculously ornate planter strategically placed between me and the pool. He sighs loudly and takes a seat next to me. He reaches over and runs his hand over my knee. He leaves it there casually like he’s done a thousand times. I still get a thrill when he touches my bare skin, even after all of these years together.

I smile and take his hand as I drop my book down onto the cement at my feet. I turn and look at him, propping one foot up on the seat between us and letting the other drop to the cement by my book. I lay an arm along the length of cushion behind him and play with his hair at his collar. He is looking especially thoughtful and far away. He sips idly at his tea then leaves the edge of the mug resting against his mouth, occassionally rubbing it against his lower lip. He has this habit of resting things on his chin and lips when he’s deep in thought. I find it adorable. I tease him all of the time that he’s got an oral fixation. It’s true. He does. He tells me that I’m quite lucky that he does. That’s true too. Hell, we all have an oral fixation in this generation, right? All of us are self-indulgent and needy and selfish and unsatisfied with anything we’re given. And we’re the worst of all, the rock stars of this generation. We're stunted infants, all.

I study him with his Freudian cup resting on his pouting mouth. He wants me to ask him what he’s thinking about. He wants me to put him out of his misery. But I decide not to indulge him because I love it when he’s like this and I know he’ll eventually just blurt it out anyway. He always cracks.

While I’m waiting for him to crack, I admire him. He’s mine so I get to do that. He’s got an amazing profile. Raptor-like when he’s serious or sad. Then the edges get softened by his off-kilter smile when he’s happy or mischievous. He is sharp and soft in all of the right places. A breeze kicks up and blows his silky too-long hair from where he had tucked it behind his ear. I reach out and brush his hair off of his face again. He’ll get it cut when we get back to London, I think. That makes me a little sad. I like it when his hair is a little longer than he likes to wear it nowadays.

“Thom’s in there.” He says, cracking at last. He sounds mournful. "He's..." He takes a breath before he continues. ”He's... shaving his back.”  
   
 

[](http://co107w.col107.mail.live.com/mail/InboxLight.aspx?n=1321101678#1)


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 **

“Oh God! It’s about time!” I laugh. "He’s been whinging about that forever!” I try to catch Jonny’s eye but I realise he’s not laughing about this like he should be. We’ve all been teasing Thom about that since we stumbled on those photoshopped pics of him in Brazil last year.

“When did we get old?”

“ _We_?! You’re not old yet. You're still fresh, in the bloom of blessed youth! Besides. you’re always be young compared to the rest of us. The rest of us may well be past it ... well... Phil’s bloody ancient. I’m _old_. Thom’s _almost_ old. Colin... well... Colin was born old. But you, you’re not even close. You're not even close enough to 40 to worry about this stuff yet, Jon.” I laugh again but he’s still not laughing. I close both of my hands on his hand still resting on my leg. I draw it up to my mouth and kiss him softly on one long slender finger.

He rests his cup on his knee but still doesn’t smile. He still hasn’t looked at me either. His eyes are still locked on that far off place that doesn’t hold any of the right answers.

“No. Really.“ He says. “Weren’t we all just a bunch of boys back at Abingdon? And now...” He trails off. “What the hell happened?”

“Sounds like you’re starting your mid-life crisis a might bit early.”

“I am.” He snorts derisively. “My best friend’s in there getting ‘manscaped’ by some haughty woman who calls herself a ‘follicle aestheticisian’ or something equally dramatic. She’s trying to talk him into dying his beard, too, cover up that patch of grey.” He is getting more animated as he talks. I worry he is going to slosh his tea. “You know Thom. He’s going to do it. He’s going to end up looking like bloody Burt Reynolds. Remember that? Can’t even recognize that bloke anymore.” He runs his hand over his face. “Fucking L.A.! Why do we let him come here?”

I smile benevolently at him and beckon him to curl up next to me. He does. He slides close and hugs my knee. I wrap my arm around him. Then I decide he doesn’t need that hot tea he’s still clutching next to my thigh and I certainly don’t want it to spill. I reach over and take it from him, setting it on the ground next to my book. I wrap my arm around him again and rub his arm. He’s gotten meatier and more manly over the years. I can only see that as a good thing.

“This is about [i]Thom[/i], then?” I ask sarcastically.

“Well, no.”

“Good. Because you should know better than to measure anything against him. When he’s not just being contrary, he waivers between sheer genius and bloody idiocy. God love him. But he’s hardly a reliable watermark for anyone else’s life.”

Jonny squirms in closer to me. “I know. It’s just everything is changing. It’s all so different now than it used to be. We’re all changing. And not in the good exciting [i]isn’t change wonderful[/i] kind of way. But in that inevitable march of time [i]there’s nothing we can do about it[/i] kind of way.” He slides his arm arm around my waist and buries his face in my chest. “It’s depressing. I don’t like it.”

I open my mouth to reply when he chuckles and I feel it rumble against my chest. “Make it stop, Ed.” He whines comically looking up at me sideways.

I chuckle and pet his hair. I do love this man. Even when he’s whiny and melodramatic for no reason, I still love this man. “There’s nothing I can do about it, Jonny. Thom is going to shave his back hair and that's all there is to it. And the whole rest of the world is going to keep on changing too.”  
 

  
[](http://co107w.col107.mail.live.com/mail/InboxLight.aspx?n=1321101678#1)  



	3. Chapter 3

 

**Chapter 3  
**

  
He looks up at me and opens his mouth to speak when from inside the house we hear Thom scream bloody murder at the top of his lungs. The boy’s got some serious lungs. We both immediately go silent and wide eyed. It’s the urban version of flight or fight mode with a racing heart and nerves on edge. Knowing Thom, this could mean all kinds of bad things or it could mean nothing at all.

A moment later, a topless Thom comes bursting out of the house cursing a blue streak. “Mother fucker!” He screams into the peaceful California sky.

We both turn and watch him stomp his way over to us. Jonny sits up and pushes his hair behind his ear. I reach down and snatch up his mug of tea and hand it to him. I’m afraid Thom will kick it into the pool. We watch him warily but don’t say anything.

He stops stomping next to the planter. He plops his ass down onto the ground and looks at us. “Mother fucker!” He says again with less volume but no less conviction.

“What’s up, Thom?” I ask with a good amount of trepidation. My worst fear is that all of the good work we did that morning somehow got zapped and lost forever.

“God damn mother fucker hurts, man! Mother fucker!” He says turning to dangle his feet in the pool.

On his back, there’s still his twin patches of back hair (which are hard to notice, really, if you’re not looking for them) except in one strip across the left side. The skin there is bare and smooth but angry and irritated. It’s a small red stripe, like he’s been branded or labelled. I hold back the urge to laugh. It’s not hard because I’m also a little freaked out. It looks like it hurt like a mother fucker. I don’t want to invoke his wrath. Jonny, however, is barely trying to hide his giggle behind his mug of tea.

“You fuckers can just go on teasing me about my lush man-pelt ‘cause it’s staying. Fuck this Hollywood vanity shit! I’m fucking English! We’re pasty and hairy little fuckers. That’s it!” Thom spits out while chewing his ragged fingernails and splashing his little toes in the cool blue water of the pool none of us have ever bothered to swim in even once.   
   
 


	4. Chapter 4

** Chapter 4  **

  
“That woman is a fucking sadist.” Thom adds after a minute.

Jonny can’t hold it back anymore and he giggles against the rim of his cup. Thom and I join him. Thom tries to splash Jonny with a handful of pool water but my friend, the strategically placed planter, blocks it.

“Maybe you’ll start a new fashion.” Jonny laughs from behind his hand. “Designer back hair sculpting could become all the rage.”

Thom laughs back. “Maybe I should get her to dye it for me. Tiger stripes or something.” He attacks a ragged hangnail with the the side of his mouth.

I chime in.”Oh no! Have it done to match your Eraser art. I’m sure Stan could come up with something special for it. This seems right up his alley.”

“Yeah! At the end of the gig I can rip off my shirt and dance around topless. That will be brilliant!” Thom says around a well-gnawed cuticle.

“Less permanent than a tattoo but no less effective in making people squirm.” Jonny adds taking a sip of tea and licking a stray drop from the rim of the mug.

Thom stops laughing and regards Jonny while tapping his fingers on his bottom lip. “You have more back hair than I do, Jonny. You should do it.” Thom sucks on a hangnail that he’s having a hard time nibbling off. “We could use it for the new album art. Stan can carve it into your body hair. It will be fantastic!”

“No fucking way!” I laugh. “I prefer my boyfriend remain logo-less. Thank you very much.”

Thom opens his mouth to say something I’m sure he thinks will be clever but the door to the house opens and he whips his head around to see who is coming out. I’m afraid it might be the sadist, but it’s only Colin.

“Weeelll...” Colin says squinting into the sun. “She’ll certainly have a story for her friends. I think you did quite an admirable job of scaring the fuck out of a woman just trying to do her job, Thom.” He plops down next to Thom at the edge of the pool but keeps his feet out of the water. He looks over Thom’s back and goes to touch the red patch.

Thom squirms away and shoves Colin with the hand he’s not chewing. He gives Colin a death glare. “Stop it!”

Colin whistles. He looks up at Jonny and I. “It does look like it hurts a bit, doesn’t it?”

“A bit?! That fucking bitch took off an entire layer of skin. I’ve been flayed!” Thom grouses around a couple of fingertips. “Fucking ‘hurts a bit’ doesn’t quite cut it, mate.” He says examining his fingers.

Jonny and I look at each other and roll our eyes. Thom forever the drama queen. Jonny finally sets down his mug of tea and starts idly rubbing his bottom lip with his finger tips as he smiles at me.

“Yes, what I gathered from all of the screaming and throwing things was that you didn’t much care for the sensation.” Colin replies.

“You threw things?” I ask.

“No. Well... just a bit.” Thom says lowly from behind the fingers he’s chewing. He stops chewing his fingers and looks up at all of us. “Well it hurt!” He says with defiance. “Let’s see one of you take torture like that without a little bitch and moan.”

We all laugh at him.

“I’m not that vain, Thom.” Colin laughs. “My back hair is just fine where it is.”

“Well, it’s all you lots fault anyway. Teasing me about it nonstop. I was just fine with it before...”

Jonny cuts him off. “Oh give it up, Thom. That was ages ago.”

The door to the house swings open again, getting pushed out by Phil’s ass. He backs out carefully carrying a tray of lemonade. We all cheer when we see him. The glasses start sweating as soon as they hit the sun. The beverages look fantastic and I realize how thirsty I am.

Phil walks over to us with a warm smile. “Who’s thirsty, then?” He sets the tray down on the table on the edge of the shade and starts handing out glasses. We all thank him gratefully as we sip the delightfully cold bevvies.

“Cheers, Phil! This is ace.” I say as he hands me the last glass.

“Yeah, mate! ‘sgreat!” Thom pipes in, picking at the ice cubes in his glass.

“What are you all talking about? Thom’s dorsal rug still?” Phil asked as he drags a chair over from the table.

“Enough about my back hair already. Can we just drop it?” Thom snorts as he crunches on an ice cube and looks over his fingertips for any unruly bits of skin or nail he hadn’t yet tamed.

“Yeah. Okay. We don’t want to cause you anymore pain.” Colin slaps him on the back right on the tender strip.

“Aaagh!” Thom gasps and makes a half-hearted attempt to push Colin into the pool. “Stop it!”

Colin makes a half-hearted attempt to push Thom into the pool as well. There’s a bit of an embarrassing middle-aged man tussle where they try not to spill their lemonades and don’t realise they’re no longer seventeen and look like blooming idiots trying to shove each other in a pool.

We all laugh.

Jonny sighs and plays an ice cube over his lips, licking at the cold drops as it melts. I pull him close again. He leans against me and runs his hand over my thigh. I rub my hand up his arm. I smile at him. I look up at my band mates gathered around me on this beautiful day under a pleasant L.A. sun. I smile at them all as I think to myself "I don't know what I would ever do without them. I'm so very lucky to have these people in my life."  
 


End file.
